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From: (Anonymous)

He allowed her and Quynh to help him to one of the private rooms, blessedly not one he had used recently with Will, and let them lay him down on the bed. He had stopped sobbing, but he was still trembling nearly uncontrollably. Nile and Copley were following awkwardly on their heels, and Nicky had practically had to hold Joe back from joining them, murmuring “don’t crowd him, my love. We’ll be here when he’s ready.”

Andy curled up on the bed next to him, and Quynh joined on the other side, and bracketed between the two of them he had never felt safer. “You’re in a bad way, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Andy asked, her fingers tracing indiscernible patterns in his hair. “I’m sorry that it took us so long to see it. I was worried, when I would see you come back from your scenes looking pretty badly injured and a bit off, but I didn’t imagine it was like this.”

Booker swallowed, deeply, and said “I consented to all of it, really I did,” like he needed her to know that, and it was Quynh who sighed. “That’s good, because otherwise Andy and I would have to kill these fools who have been playing with you, but it’s also a Dom’s job to read between the lines and to know when green isn’t green.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You can tell us everything, whenever you are ready, but I promise that we will never ever let you get hurt like that again. I don’t mean the physical pain,” she added as he started to interject. “I’m happy to give you that myself if you want. But we will take better care of you from now on.”

Booker sighed shakily and rested his head on Andy’s shoulder, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing. “If I tell you everything, will you tell Nicky and Joe later?” He asked, nuzzling into Andy’s chest. “I can’t talk about it twice.” Nile was the one who spoke up first, confidently reassuring him that she would, that they would do whatever Booker needed.

“About a year after Joe and I graduated from college,” he started, hand reaching out to try and find something to comfort him, fisting in the sheets at first and then Quynh offered him her hand, squeezing gently. “I met the most amazing woman while I was back in France visiting my brother. Emilie. She was everything I could have ever dreamed off and we fell in love and got married in short order.” He sighed again. “She was perfect, my Emilie, and we were so happy together, except...” he waved his hand a bit, to encompass the selection of whips hanging on the wall, the St Andrews Cross in the corner, the whole club. “Except I had always craved this, Joe and I used to talk about it all the time in college, and my Emilie was the most vanilla person you could imagine. I brought it up with her only once, but it was clear that she would never want to try anything like what fuelled my fantasies.” He gave a little hitching sob and squeezed Quynh’s hand tighter. “I cheated on her. I don’t know how I could have done such a thing, she was such a lovely person. One time, when she was out of town, I came to a place like this. I didn’t do anything sexual, but that doesn’t matter, it was plenty intimate. I found a man, because I told myself that that was better, that it was alright because he was nothing like my beloved wife, let him beat me until I was bruised from head to toe. The bruises only just managed to heal by the time she came back from visiting her family.” He closed his eyes in shame, and Andy pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead, reassuring. “I never did it again, never told her. It ate at me, every day, the horrible guilt of it, the fact that even worse, I still craved how it had made me feel.” Tears welled up, and he did nothing to stop them. “And then my Emilie, the light of my life, got sick and died, and I don’t know how I could have ever wanted for anything more than her. I was so, so lucky to have her—how could I have been so weak as to still want more?”

Nile gave a wounded sound, and Copley was kneeling on the floor at her feet, his own eyes moist, and Nile reached down to stroke the back of his neck gently even while she turned to speak to Booker. “You are being so harsh on yourself, beautiful,” she murmured. “I don’t think your wife would want that, don’t think she would want to see you so torn up with agony.” Andy curled closer to Booker, laying a hand on his chest. “These things are different, Book, and you can’t blame yourself for what you desire. I love Quynh more than anything in the world, she is my wife and my heart, but she and I are not compatible in this way. We make it work, because we each go and find our own subs to play with and then tell each other the details afterwards, or else we pick someone out together as a special treat. But I couldn’t imagine choosing between my love for Quynh and my love for a willing body kneeling at my feet. They are not at all the same and they are both so strong that I cannot deny either one, I would be a fool to try.”

“I am sorry that you have been carrying this guilt and grief with you, Booker. We will try and help you let it go,” Quynh said, rubbing a circle over his palm, and he could hardly believe this. Here, he had bared the worst, ugliest part of him, and they were still there at his side. “But...but it was wrong, what I did,” he stammered out. “I broke her trust, I went behind her back to find someone to hurt me, I hid it from her...” Andy looked as if she was having trouble contemplating the morality of it, which wasn’t terribly surprising given what an open and honest relationship she had with Quynh, and so Nile, gentle sweet Nile with her deeply-ingrained sense of right and wrong, stepped in.

“It would have been better if you had talked to her honestly about what you were needing and maybe you two could have figured something out, even if you didn’t think she was interested in this kind of thing. But I also think I understand why you did what you did, and why you didn’t tell her afterwards—you were trying to protect her, weren’t you?” He nodded, miserably, still curled up against Andy. “I didn’t want her to ever feel like she wasn’t enough,” he confessed. “She should have been enough, I’m the broken one who couldn’t be satisfied with her gentle love—“ Nile cut him off with a finger to his lips, shaking her head firmly. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that about yourself, Booker. You’re not broken, there’s nothing shameful or wrong about enjoying BDSM.” She looked, a little desperately, to Andy, knowing that if any of them would know how to go about fixing this, it would be her. Andy chewed her lip, thinking.

“You know why we punish people?” She asked Booker, finally. “Good Doms, I mean, not that ridiculous game Will was playing where he would deliberately set you up to fail.” Booker shrugged, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Because we deserve it because we fucked up?”

Andy smiled, fond, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I can see why you might think of it that way. I think of it somewhat differently, though. I punish people to set them free. We all mess up, Book, in small ways all the time and sometimes in big ways. If we don’t do anything about our mistakes, then that guilt just festers inside us, and gets worse and worse, until it threatens to consume us, like it’s consuming you now. When I punish someone, there’s a real reckoning, a clear endpoint so that when I forgive them, they can forgive themselves as well.”

Booker looked at her like she was describing an impossible dream, and the naked want and hope on his face made her heart clench. She sighed, nuzzling his hair a bit. “I don’t want you to give me an answer tonight, because you’re not in the right mindset to decide anything and I want you to have the time to think about this. But if you’re willing, I would like to help you through this, Book. I would ask that you give me all your Thursday nights for the next two months, if you say yes, and that other than telling me your hard limits, which I will always respect, I would ask that you not question what kind of punishment I think is most appropriate. And, just to be crystal clear, the only thing that I would be punishing you for is going behind your wife’s back to do a scene. All that other stuff you said about how you should have been satisfied squashing this side of you is not true and is not something that I’m willing to punish you for.” She gave his cheek a last soft kiss. “Just rest for now, Book, and give it some thought later.”

From: (Anonymous)

;_; oh Booker. (it occurs to me that he and Copley might bond over being widows)

ok, I was wondering if Andy and Quynh were both Dommes, and I love that they are, and still are very happily in love. and i also love the added touch of Andy not being able to compute Booker's moral dilemma because of it.

and oh man Booker's gonna cry so hard when Andy (+Quynh... + Nile??) give him the catharsis he's chasing.

From: (Anonymous)

Booker and Copley indeed do have a lot in common, I’m hoping to include a sweet scene between them at some point! :)

Oh I know, I feel so sorry for him that he’s hurting so badly!

From: (Anonymous)

He texted her a few days later to tell her yes. No matter what she said, he didn’t really believe that in two months of Thursdays she could free him of the guilt and angst he had been carrying around for years, but he was so tired of feeling so rotten that he was willing to try anything. Besides, he reasoned, it’s not as if whatever punishment she could cook up for him could possibly be worse than what he had voluntarily allowed people to do to him over the past weeks. Probably it wouldn’t help, he reasoned as he waited for her to reply, chewing on his thumbnail a bit nervously. But it couldn’t hurt either.

His phone rang, and he picked up before he could talk himself out of it. “Yes boss?” He answered, blushing a bit as he realised that he had let the nickname slip. He had heard Nile and Nicky call her that and it had sort of caught on with him, but he hadn’t said it out loud to her yet. If she noticed, she was kind enough not to say anything. “I’m glad that you’re willing to try,” she said. “We care about you, you know. All of us do,” and, well. He guessed at some level he knew that, knew they wouldn’t waste their time with him every week and occasionally more than once a week when they would meet up for dinner or drinks outside the club, but it still made his heart skip a beat to hear it. “And we all want to do what we can to help you, because we hate to see you hurting like this.”

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice, fighting down the urge to tell her how it was more than he deserved. “What do—what do I need to do?” She hummed, thinking. “Well, most things I’m going to take care of before I see you next Thursday, but I need to know your limits, both hard and soft.”

“I don’t have any,” he answered easily, and she couldn’t help a little sigh. “You know, I thought you might say that. Nile had an idea, actually, that she thought might help you articulate them,” and if Booker’s heart beat a little faster at the thought of Nile trying to think about what would be good for him, coming up with something to help him, well, nobody had to know about it. “I’m going to send you a sheet, okay, with a list of things. It’s the same one I normally use with people, where they can mark off what their kinks and limits are. Except that you get a special rule. I want you to mark a number between 1 and 5 down for every single thing on the list, where 1 is something that you would really rather not do and 5 is something that’s one of your favourites. And you must mark at least five things as a 1 and 5 things as a 2, understand?”

Booker wanted to protest, but he also wanted to start this off on a good foot, so he just nodded a little meekly, then realised she couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’ll do my best.” That earned him a fond chuckle. “I know you will, Book,” Andy said, and her voice was so warm that Booker felt he could almost curl up into it.

“If you feel up to it,” she suggested, “I thought it might be nice to go do something fun tomorrow, all of us. We won’t talk about your form or any of this, just a friendly outing? It’s supposed to be nice weather,” and he knew what she was doing, she was trying to remind him that despite his confession, despite whatever she was going to do to him over the next two months, they were still friends first and foremost. He knew what she was doing, but he still appreciated it, and he had to pause for a moment before he could answer, a little choked up. “I would like that,” he replied carefully. “Just text me where to meet you.” “I will,” she replied. “And I’ll send you the form, can you fill it out and get it back to me by the end of the day?” He chewed his lip, nodding. “Yes bo—Andy,” he corrected swiftly, but not swiftly enough, because when she got off the line she added one last thing. “And Book? You can call me whatever you want,” she said gently, and he was glad that she couldn’t see him blush.

Filling out the form proved to be just as much a challenge as he had expected. He had it almost finished, then looked back at it and realised that he hadn’t marked anything as a 1 and only had a handful of 2s, and groaned, ripping the paper up and printing off a fresh copy to try again. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, trying to concentrate and think about what things Doms had tried that had made him feel even worse than his baseline misery.

The memories resurfaced, slowly, and he wrapped himself in a soft blanket as he shivered a bit involuntarily. Carefully, he started to pencil in things that he didn’t like, even writing some details next to the printed list to make it clearer what he didn’t like. Being left alone, especially if he was blindfolded, was a 1. Being called dirty names was a 2, fine in moderation, but he didn’t like it when it turned too mean and he didn’t like being called a whore. It was late in the night by the time he finished, and even harder than coming up with the 1s and 2s, somehow, had been coming up with the 5s. He felt almost embarrassed by them, how they were a strange mixture of hard kink (choking, knives) and sweet simple things (serving someone, being praised—that one he wrote 5++) but he told himself not to overthink it.

At the bottom of the page, right before he sent it back to Andy, he wrote, in slightly shaky letters, “I just want to be good.”

From: (Anonymous)

Aw, Booker :( also yay, Nile helping him write down his limits.

Also I really like Andy in this? I feel like it's easy to characterize her as a harsh person but there's so much caretaking in this, I really like it

From: (Anonymous)

Thank you very much! Andy is one of my favourite characters and I feel like even in the film she has a unique mixture of toughness and caring that I’m trying my best to replicate here :)

From: (Anonymous)

"I just want to be good" oh my god kill me this is beautiful! I love how Nile was the one who told him that yeah, you did a bad thing, but that doesn't have to be your whole identity. I love this so much!

From: (Anonymous)

Thank you so much! I’m having so much fun writing it and I have a lot of feelings for Booker!

From: (Anonymous)

[[just a little soft interlude before they start in on piecing Booker back together again! Also, please—anyone who has suggestions of things they would particularly like to see, feel free to chime in! It’s hard to come up with two months’ worth of punishments for our sad depressed Frenchman ;)]]

True to Andy’s word, she texted him an address to meet at the next day, and when he arrived he found to his surprise that she had picked a fall festival for them to go to. It wasn’t the first time that he had met up with their group outside the club, but there was still something funny about seeing them so casual. Andy and Quynh were already there, leaning against the entrance, when Booker showed up, and if Andy still had her trademark leather jacket and boots on, Quynh looked surprisingly soft in a long burgundy sweater, leggings and ballerina flats. They were holding hands, Booker realised, and didn’t make any move to break apart as he approached.

“Fall is Quynh’s favourite season,” Andy explained with a grin at her wife. “She likes to try and fatten me up with apple cider donuts and get way too competitive over pumpkin carving.” Quynh rolled her eyes, squeezing Andy’s hand. “Just because I’m better at you with a knife,” she huffed, and Andy groaned in mock outrage. “Slander and lies,” she complained, and then gave Booker a sidelong glance. “Maybe sometime we’ll let Booker judge who’s better with a knife,” she remarked with a wink, and he groaned, because he knew then that she had already looked through his form and seen that he marked that as a 5.

Joe and Nicky showed up next, on a ridiculously sleek motorcycle that Booker had no idea they owned and was incredibly jealous of, and Joe didn’t say anything, just pulled Booker into a tight hug, and Booker knew that Nile had followed through on her promise to tell Joe and Nicky what he had confessed. “Thanks,” he whispered, leaning into Joe’s strong arms and hugging him back, soaking up the physical contact. Nicky shot him a bit of a shy smile, as well, and Booker thought again how lucky he was to have met such good friends so soon after his move.

Copley ambled in a moment later, and to Booker’s surprise he also pulled each of them into a quick hug. Out of all of them, Copley was probably the biggest enigma for Booker—something that went beyond the unspoken mystery of what he did for his day job. He liked the man, but he didn’t feel like he knew him well—admittedly, it was also unusual for him to spend time with another sub. He couldn’t even figure out if Copley had a more established relationship with one of the bunch in particular—he seemed to just sort of flutter between them, accepting caresses and beatings from whoever in the group felt like giving them out. He clearly was theirs, though—Booker had never seen him do a scene with someone outside their little group of friends.

Nile was last, practically running up to them, a little out of breath, and Booker’s own breath caught as she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek hello. “Sorry, sorry, I was babysitting my little nephew and my brother didn’t get back in time,” she apologised, and Booker brightened a bit. “Oh, you have a nephew? How old is he? Do you have pictures?” Nile chuckled. “Never ask a proud aunt that, you’ll end up bored to tears looking at 10,000 photos of a baby I think is the cutest in the world but you probably think looks like all the other babies,” and he shook his head adamantly. “No, I won’t, really. I love kids, always wanted some but—“ a flash of pain across his face. “Well, it didn’t work out for Emilie and I.” Hating the way his eyes had turned dark and a little lost, Nile fumbled with her phone, pulled up a photo of an adorable curly-headed little boy, maybe about 3 years old, in a dinosaur onesie that was clearly too big for him. “Meet Gabriel,” Nile said proudly, and Booker felt his heart melt a tiny bit. “Oh my God, he’s adorable,” he exclaimed.

“Niiile,” Quynh whined impatiently. “Show Booker your adorable nephew later, I’ve been craving mulled cider and a donut since yesterday and Andy wouldn’t let me go into the festival until you all showed up,” and Nile laughed good naturedly and assured Booker that she would show him more pictures later.

It was a really nice day, Booker found himself thinking as he sat at the pumpkin carving table, carefully doing the dirty work of scraping out the insides of the pumpkin so that Nile could carve it. He felt content, here, with these people who were so nice, who knew the worst thing he had done and still wanted to throw hay at him on the hayride and make him bet on how many apple cider donuts Andy could eat in a row. Copley had pulled him aside at one point while the others were bobbing for apples, had told him in a quiet voice that his own wife had died three years before, that if he ever wanted to talk about it it was an option. Booker thanked him, but he knew he wasn’t ready for that—but maybe one day he might be, he thought.

He felt hopeful, for the first time in a long time, that maybe Andy could—if not fix him—maybe she could at least help him not feel so awful all the time.

He finished scooping out the pumpkin, looked at it with a critical eye to make sure it was good to go, and handed it to Nile with a smile. “Ready for your creative genius, ma petite artiste”, he said, and she reached over to ruffle his hair. “Good boy,” she said softly, and he dipped his head but he knew that it wasn’t enough to hide the way his cheeks flushed, and even though he knew himself, knew that the guilt and the misery would come creeping back in sooner or later, in that one moment he didn’t care.

From: (Anonymous)

awww what a sweet fall outing. also good boy Booker, yes, good shit.

From: (Anonymous)

This is sooo goooooood!! I am so excited for the next update!

From: (Anonymous)

the idea to require Booker to fill out 1s and 2s is genius.

serving someone, being praised—that one he wrote 5++
I am 10000% here for these kinks.

also “I just want to be good.” 😭😭😭

From: (Anonymous)

Thank you! I feel like dealing effectively with Booker requires a lot of creativity so I’ve been trying to think of what I would actually do to help him 😂

I knowww he will have to earn them though :)